


my touch can always find you

by lizook12



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: "Trouble sleeping?”“Never even made it to our room.”





	my touch can always find you

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to **Alanna1231** for the spot check. 
> 
> Title from Sugarland's _Let Me Remind You_

Shuffling down the hall he pauses to run his hand through his hair, squint back at the clock blinking on their nightstand. 

2:28. 

Where the hell is she? 

He glances into both kids’ rooms as he passes (_check and check_) and quickly considers options. 

If it were him, he’d be hunched over a carton of semi-melted ice cream right now, brisk October air be damned. 

This is Joyce though and the chances are much higher that she passed out on the couch after her late shift. 

(He fucking hates nights where they both need to work late. 

It’s inevitable though and at least she won’t need to take those shifts much longer. 

Not once her training at Eyecare & Eyewear is complete.) 

There’s a low hum coming from the family room and he ducks under the archway, only slightly surprised to find that she’s awake. 

(He’s not the only one with nightmares. 

Hell, you could call it a family bonding activity.) 

“Hey, trouble sleeping?” 

“Never even made it to our room.” She tucks her legs up under her, turns the volume on the tv down even more. “It's…”  


“Halloween coming?”

“For once, no.” The couch dips as he settles next to her and a smile ghosts over her face as she turns away from the latest infomercial and towards him. “I’m just… spirit week and homecoming…” 

His only response is a quick nod and it almost shakes a laugh loose from her. 

Because no one else would understand. 

Would think she’d finally completely lost it. 

It’s just a weird week in general, one that Jonathan was never interested in, but Will… for as much as Will pretends to not care, he does.

“I can’t guarantee anything when it comes to teenagers, but I think it will be fine. At least the themes they picked this year didn’t involve me needing to rifle through my closet to find retro clothes for their entire group of friends to steal from.”  


“El and Max looked great in your hats.”  


“My point still stands.”  


“I know, it’s…” Sighing, she shakes her head, shrugs in the low light. “They made it through last year, I should be relaxed, but here we are, up at two in the morning…”  


“I think, and I could be wrong…” He slides closer, arm falling across her shoulders. “But that’s just being a parent.”  


“Hmm, I wonder who taught you that?”  


“Mystery to us all.” 

Her head falls against his shoulder and she lets her eyes drift shut for a moment. His breathing is even beside her, his fingers drifting softly over the nape of her neck, across her shoulder, when the infomercial changes, this one blaring through the room. 

_…clap off, The Clapper! _

It’s reverberating in the space as she finally finds the remote between them and mutes it entirely. 

“Maybe we should get one of those; would help the kids when they sneak in at midnight.” 

“Because our daughter with telekinetic abilities can’t take care of that.” She sits up, pushing an errant throw pillow off the couch. “And aren’t you supposed to be discouraging that?”  


“Probably, but…” 

“Yeah, I know.”  


And she does. 

Knows that after the trauma and hell their kids have been through, they deserve some freedom. 

That they’re smart enough to make (mostly) good choices, to be home late for things like sneaking into movies they shouldn’t be seeing and going to bonfires.

Trying a beer or two and then waiting to drive home. 

It’s the reminder she needs and she finally—_finally—_feels the tension in her loosen, start to slip away. 

“Now this theft of my shirt on the other hand…” His fingers toy with the edge of the flannel shirt she’d wrapped herself in when she came home. “That I might have to consider following up on.”  


“Your shirt? I think it’s time for an eye exam. I mean…” She leans forward, sliding into his lap. “When was the last time—“ 

The rest of the sentence is muffled against his mouth as he laughs against her, hands flexing on her back, erasing what little distance remains between them. 

Sighing, she shifts slightly, her knees bracketing his hips as her tongue strokes over his, hands twine in his hair.  


His head falls back, eyes slamming shut as her teeth rasp over his jaw and down his neck. She hums along his skin, teeth and tongue alternating as his fingers slip under her (_his_) shirt. 

“Shit, Joyce…” Groaning, he strokes his thumb along the curve of her waist as she presses a kiss to the mark she’s left just above his collarbone.

“I… oh… know..” Her mouth covers his once more, all heat and _yesmore _and love. 

She’s lost to it several long minutes: the feel of his body under her, his strong arms around her, breath low in her ear… 

His hips rock against hers, and she lets her forehead press to his before forcing herself to pull away. “Come on…” She stands, hand slipping into his, tugging him forward, out of the room and back down the hall. “Let’s go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I do research to make sure that I wasn't remembering incorrectly and that the Clapper was available in the 80s? Yes. Have I been humming the infomercial song for the last day and a half because of it? Also, yes.


End file.
